Monday, June 29, 2015

Attachment

After three days the feetAre reluctant to leaveEven the peepal preachesThe virtue of stayingThe birds sing of a homeTo come back toWhen the sun is downThis is the temptationI've been warned ofThe lure of placesLike the tiny fingersOf newbornsLatching on to strangersNot letting them goThe tinkle of ankletsComing with offeringsTurning into a refrainThe scent of jasmineStaying in the nostrilsThe sweet laughterEchoing hours afterNow, I'm back on my feetDo I rememberLast nightOr the last dream?All I seeIs the beaten pathAnd the sky swept clean